


Let the Petals Speak

by JoifulDreaming



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Language of Flowers, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoifulDreaming/pseuds/JoifulDreaming
Summary: Sometimes words are hard, but something else can speak for you.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Let the Petals Speak

Aziraphale didn’t know a whole lot about how to care for plants, even though he’d posed as a gardener to watch over Warlock. He killed more plants in that time than he cultivated. That didn’t mean that he was at a loss to the meanings behind flowers. The meanings were woven in to the tales of many stories- and the meanings often changed over time, but not by much. The Language of Flowers, that was something he understood. And, the reason behind it: sometimes feelings and needs were too hard to express with spoken words. Symbols, they were just easier.

So when he followed the note Crowley left on his desk in the bookshop back to Crowley’s apartment one day, he immediately recognized the message in the vase of flowers sitting outside in the hallway. It helped, too, that he knew the one who put the bouquet together. All tangled together artfully: hyacinth, gladiolas, and yellow roses. Those surrounded, but somehow complimented a ring of wild roses around a single lavender rose in the center. _The simplicity of friendship, remembered. Being charmed and a bit besotted at first sight._ He bent and picked out the lavender rose, bringing it to his nose for a deep sniff before opening the door.

Inside, the foyer was festooned with pink roses, amaryllis, and red carnelians. _Admiration, worth beyond compare, and… heartaches?_ He plucked one of the red carnelians from the wall (somehow not attached, but staying all the same; probably threatened to do so). He hadn’t set down the lavender rose.

Going further, he found that he could hardly see the main living spaces for a blanket of apple blossoms and white lilies. _My love is pure; my choice is you._ Aziraphale’s heart was beating faster now, wondering where this was leading. Pinching off an apple blossom, he added it to the collection in his hands.

Daisies and birds of paradise hung from the ceiling and walls of the hallway leading to the master bedroom, a canopy of delicate, colorful blooms. _Anticipation, attachment._ It was at this moment that he realized none of the plants were shaking with terror. What he was feeling wasn’t only in beating of his heart, it was all around: Love. Dripping from every petal, every leaf. Every single flower had been placed lovingly and extolled. The very plants knew they were the best they could be and their one job was to proclaim meaning. Even the aching carnelian in his hand felt it’s worth and shown with love besting any heartache.

Pushing open the master bedroom door, the first thing he saw- of course- was the charming face of his beloved. Clearly, Crowley was trying to relax seductively, but somehow cockily against a backdrop of yet more flowers. But, truthfully he looked quite anxious. Aziraphale tore his eyes away for a moment to read the flowers: Red roses and red tulips in pots and vases all around, interwoven amongst were sweet peas and peonies. _A declaration of love, pleasure… and?_

Aziraphale’s eyes flew back to Crowley, who had somehow slithered off the bed and on to the floor, kneeling. In his hand was a box, and in that box was a ring.

Well, Angel?

He slipped to his knees to meet on the same level. Yes, my dear, six thousand years worth of yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Quite possibly the sappiest thing I've ever written.


End file.
